Ocular
by Soulreciever
Summary: Mirrors are a gateway to another world. (Angst, bbl/holiday star spoilers, BL)
1. Chapter 1

AN: spoiler heavy for both games and I've only actually skimmed the surface as far as the fandom goes so apologies for lore holes!

working on everyone being human here if only because my head just couldn't do the whole pinch of salt thing when I was actively writing characters so I've done a bit here and there with certain things down the line that were bird universe specific to fit them in with that thought!

Everything is Moa's even all the thoughts and feelings that inspired this in the first place!

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><p>Mirrors were the gateway into a parallel universe.<p>

Hadn't he read that somewhere in one of the big, fancy, books his brother had started begging him to check out from the library on his way back from work?

The smell of the musty pages in his nose, the feel of the cracked parchment of their pages and the sight of those rare, glorious, illustrations that the younger man had spent more than one night examining with such intensity that he'd simply forgotten to sleep.

He keeps his mind there as he works the bleach into his hair, looses himself the details of the memory, of how much brighter his brother's smile had been when presented one of those books, of how excited he'd become when discussing the new myths he'd discovered in their pages.

For a brief moment he'd seem like any child his age, bright and full of such promise and then...

A sharp burn as the chemicals find some small abrasion in his scalp and in wincing a little against the unexpected pain his eyes at last fix to his reflection's.

Lost weight, dark shadows and already his hair is soaking up its colour, twisting a brash golden hue just a shade too orange to pass just yet.

Still it's close enough that with a subtle shift of posture he's no longer seeing his own face.

Seeing instead the face of a ghost.

_Uzune Hitori meets Kazuaki Nanaki a month before his world tumbles in on itself. _

_It is not an auspicious meeting, no mistimed collision or heroic rescue a gang of unpleasant vagrants, but instead simply one scarred boy reaching out for another in companionship: _

_Their friendship grows slowly, Kazuaki uncomfortable even the smallest of conversations and Uzune wary always of just how deeply pushing too quickly could hurt._

_Still by the time the _**incident**_ occurs they are certainly close enough to be considered friends, close enough that Uzune chooses to return to Kazuaki despite the fact that he is meant to be dead._

_For a week after Uzune hurts enough that he finds himself, at last, agreeing with Kazukai's pessimism and wishing for the death he'd been refused._

_Anger burns the hurt eventually and twists him, crafts a new self fuelled the scent his brother's charring flesh._

_This new self begins whispering at how alike Kazukai's appearance is to his own, how he was the other boys only true friend, how his family was long since dead and an ugly plan began to form._

_Three months later Uzune Hitori became Kazuaki Nanaki._

It's been years since he'd claimed someone else's life and still it's unnerving to see a reflection other than his own in the mirror, a sharp shock of confusion before understanding kicks in and then...

_Kazuaki stretching out for him, tendons a taught line beneath his skin, eyes rolled back in his head, his breath hard and frequently strangled the tremors racing through his body._

_Still his mouth is moving, placing foolish effort to shape again and again the question of 'why' about spittle and blood. _

He's learned just where to look so that it's easy to pretend the staff room mirror a window and the brief movement of his reflection Kazuaki waking by outside.

Repeated the lie to himself over and over enough now that it feels strangely possible that, just maybe, he was catching some broken snatch of another life.

A life where everyone had lived

_As expected Kazuaki is already nested down in one corner of the library, workbooks scattered in an ever decreasing spiral in towards the somewhat subdued man himself._

_There's a cup of tea balanced on one of the books to his left that has him smiling a little to himself and enquiring,_

_"Someone take pity on you?" __A tiny jump and a face that's so tempting to simply tease a little no matter how sorry he is, still there's a lot of work to do right now and he's in the mood to play at being a responsible adult for a little so instead he apologises and, once the tear filled face is settled out he repeats the question. _

_"Nageki, though he's gone home now." Again the same fond smile that says, louder than words, that Kazuaki understands how much he cares for his little brother and, indeed, admires him the somewhat neurotic need he has to assure the other safe and well. _

_More and more he begins to think that perhaps it was fate that had steered their paths together, that, perhaps, they had been broken as they had so that they might form some better whole._

_Smiling the sweetness the thought he grabs the closest book to him and enquires,_

_"Let's see what craziness Kawara has put down this time shall we?!" _


	2. Chapter 2

AN: this is where I did some a weird sort of mix of Japanese culture stuff and American because a) as I'm doing human verse legumintines isn't going to be a thing so I switched back to the more european take on v-day as well as the holidays in general! And b) Hiyoka's first in game reaction to Yuuya having a gun makes me feel that a little of Japan's current, only the police have guns, thing is still in effect in the Hatoful verse so I went with that gut feel! As to the rest this is still all sorts of spoiler teritory plus I start going more head cannon here so there's likely to be a few unwelcome pairing choices and likely a smidg of OC to certain peeps!

I own own only the plot bunny and certain head thoughts!

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><p>Another night of Nageki whispering in one ear, asking why, why, why and Kazuaki in the other screaming the same.<p>

Another morning drinking as much coffee as he can without drawing attention and yet still finding his eyes closing during classes.

Another afternoon waking in the doctors office, laughing off his fatigue a silly nothing and smiling sweetly at the man he knows directly responsible his brother's murder because it is expected.

Another evening working on marking in the library, shivering in the cold and imagining, one brief moment, that his brother was at his side a sweet, sweet, smile on his lips.

Day after day the same terrible routine, the same mindless monotony and the faded ghost of Kazuaki's voice as he'd recounted the rot such boredom sewed in the mind.

He thinks, sometimes, that it truly would be easier to die, to set a fire his small little home and burn as he should have a lifetime ago, or perhaps swallow again bitter pills and follow, at last, on Kazuaki's path.

His brother tells him that that is a cowards path, that he had promised to make the doctor pay, to find him and bring him home at last.

Whispers that he'd broken so many promises already, that he'd let him die, let him burn and that living like this, existing every day scars so deep they'd cut down into his very marrow, was the very least he could offer in apology that fact.

Once he'd allowed himself the thought that perhaps it would be better to forget, had at last taken the torn remains their last photo together from its frame at his bedside and scratched away his brother's face.

There had been an instant, a single heartbeat of time, where the action had filled him pure elation, where all the bitterness, all the fatigue, he'd felt carrying the weight of his guilt, drains into a sure sense of freedom and hope.

It takes only the sight of his reflection the empty glass of the photo frame, the distorted duplication of Kazuaki's smile, the subtle tilt of head that had meant that smile truly sincere, for that weight to return.

He had killed one who had trusted him, sullied his hand in blood and damned his eternal soul, because it had been a way forward, a way to keep the promise he'd made first to himself that dark, terrible day and then every day since to his brother's restless spirit.

Finally there are days when the poisonous thought of 'what if' comes back, when Hiyoka again proves her indomitable self and he pictures just what her mighty spirit might have done for his timid little brother.

The nights that his dreams are filled with the life beyond the mirror, the life where the doctors had cured rather than killed and he, in turn, had done the same.

Always, in the end, the nightmares come again, burning un-apologetically and leaving him again scorched and barren of all but his bitterness, his anger, but for at least that one night he is granted reprieve.

For that one night he can believe himself free without guilt, can believe that he is dreaming his own life and that it his nightmares that come from across the mirror's edge.

_It'd been a year since the doctors had given written permission for Nageki to return to school, six months since his brother had been forced to stay at home or leave half way through the day thanks to fatigue or some return some minor symptom and two since he'd been asked, soft and hesitant as always, if he might start to treat the younger man as just another student while they were in school. _

_Of course he'd agreed, proud beyond words to think that at last Nageki has begun to grow enough to live a little his own life and far, far, too grateful that he'd been granted the chance to see such a moment. _

_He'd also been just a little curious as to if there'd been something a little more behind the request, not enough to properly pry, but certainly enough to keep an 'ear to the ground' just incase. _

_It's Kawara, or rather the subtle shift in the boy's stance whenever he's about his brother, that eventually 'gives the game away' so to speak and has him suddenly on high alert whenever he sees or hears Hiyoka with Nageki, shamefully all but stalking the pair in some desperate need to know if the other boy had true motivation for what seemed, in the very least, an intense envy of his brother._

_His investigations had lead him, finally, the painful conclusion that his brother was in an unrequited love scenario and, for the moment at least, clinging still what seemed a fools hope that it might still shift in his favour._

_He could see, of course, why that hope was still alive, how Hiyoka's kindly behaviour could easily be misinterpreted by someone as new to everything as his brother still was and how even Kawara might see how enthusiastic she was to spend time with Nageki and believe it the first tendrils a love connection._

_Age had granted him wisdom enough to truly look, to see the tiniest of hesitations in reaching to touch or notice the subtle differences between a smile gifted to his brother and one intended, instead, for Kawara._

_He wants, more than anything, to shift it all somehow, to hold the power to simply wave a hand and insure his brother would never have to know what it was to suffer heart break and yet..._

_"So here you are," Kazuaki remarks as he slides into the chair opposite and follows the direction of his eyes out the classroom window down to the small group huddled together in the quad. "You bring it on yourself you know."_

_It's a statement that has him frowning and the other man laughs a little likely for the strangeness at seeing such a serious expression on his face before he explains,_

_"You promised to keep your personal lives away from school which means that, right now, you're only his teacher and, as such, you just have to let whatever's going to happen, happen." _

_"Ok, yes, that's true and, honestly, I'd like to think I'd have kept out even without making that promise, this sort of hurt's something he'll need to learn to live with as an adult, after all, but..."_

_"That doesn't make you feel any less powerless or less guilty for 'doing the right thing.'" _

_"Precisely."_

_A huff and suddenly there's a serious cast to his friend's face more genuine and, indeed, more worrying the usual overt depression of a crying assault, _

_"Kazuaki?"_

_"Hm, oh, I was just thinking if there was some way I could help you put this all a little out of your head so that you could go back to being you."_

_It's touching to have proof that he's cared about, though it's just a little bit too tempting to snark back with, "I'm sorry but does that even make sense?"_

_"Of course it does and I can't believe your teasing me even when I'm trying to be nice!" Which is the much more comfortable childish petulance rearing again it's head and, smiling fondly, he reaches out to ruffle the other's hair as he responds,_

_"Sorry, that was a little unfair, I know, but I honestly couldn't resist!" _

It's New Year's Day and yet the main aisle of the supermarket is already awash with various pieces of overly priced valentines mementos. He wonders, cynically, just when on the 14th he'd be likely to see the first signs of Easter appearing and holds a little to the poison of the thought before the anger bleeds back in.

Six months and still he feels no closer to understanding how he might uncover the laboratory in such a way to expose it's secrets to the world, to uncover, in turn, just where the doctor had hidden whatever little there was of his brother's body, without also exposing again his true self.

Last week he'd finally secured a way to procure a gun without drawing suspicion, had held the thing in his hand the dark of his living room and pictured what it would be to level it at the doctor's head.

Now, as then, he wonders if he could actually go through with the act, if his blind rage, the shear desperate want to find some closure at last the waking nightmare of his life, would prove drive enough.

Kazuaki had, after all, killed himself when all was said and done, oh he'd put the idea into his head, torn and torn at the other's already threadbare psyche until he'd felt suicide the only way out, but the pills had been swallowed of the other's own accord.

He'd stayed only long enough to pocket the others ID, blanked his ears, as well he could, to the sound of his voice, the struggle of his breath, as he'd done as such and then had left the apartment just long enough that the corpse had started to stiffen by the time he'd returned.

The feel of cold, dead, skin beneath his fingertips, the memory of the accusation impossibly burned the glassy emptiness of his eyes and suddenly everything is too hot, too close.

_He's burning once more, chocking on the greasy air and trying, desperately, to get past the white heat of the doorway before it's too late and Nageki is..._

"...can you hear me sir?" The voice is soft, feminine and unfamiliar enough that it drags him back to himself.

He's outside now, settled on the hard wood of one of the benches located just outside of the store, the woman, dressed in what looks a nurses uniform, sat to his left and calmly taking his pulse. "Ah, there you are, I'm Sakura and you've just been at the other end of a pretty nasty panic attack."

"Ryuichi," the lie of a name rolls off his tongue without even thought and smiling a charmer's smile he responds, "thank you for looking after me,"

She's all demure modesty and he's so unexpectedly vulnerable right now, sliced deep the waking nightmare and all it's making him rember, that it's far too easy to see the ghost of his brother there in that smile.

His addled brain playing tricks, of course, and yet it's enough to have him asking her to lunch some desperate hope that maybe there would be more, that perhaps he had been granted some wild, impossible, miracle and before him now is the new shape of Nageki's soul.

She proves, swiftly, anything but, that initial impression of demure innocence a facade clearly constructed because she felt it expected, rather than something all but seared into her marrow as it had been always with Nageki and for all that it had been something expected still it cuts.

Angry, at himself, at her, at his brother, at the twisted putrid mass of chaos that seems his existence now and swirled even further into madness the hard bitterness of the sake she'd bought as 'relaxant', he snaps some unprompted tirade that has them both turfed into the streets in a matter of minutes.

A string of curse words that are as final proof her 'true nature' and with a passing "you're a nut job", she's gone again from his life.

There is a moment where the words sting, where he's angry still at fate for pulling him to a point where it was safer, for all concerned, for him to be left alone with his daemons.

He lashes out, one hand connecting solidly the wall behind him and the subsequent blossom of pain working through the anger, the numbness of the drink and granting him clarity once more.

This life, this loneliness, was the just punishment for failing Nageki not only in that past life, but also this other and to wish it otherwise, to feel angry the fact, is as to betray his brother's memory.

_It's six pm on New Year's Eve and, of course, because he'd finally achieved the minor miracle of getting Kazuaki to actually agree to attending the staff party, disaster had struck. _

_Given that said disaster was Hiyoka rejecting, apparently as gently as she possibly could, his brother and that, right now, Nageki was currently sobbing quietly into his shoulder, he wasn't angry, per say, just somewhat perturbed that apparently fate had decided today was the day to send everything south. _

_Mentally sighing he gently extricates his phone from his pocket and texts his friend an apology before settling in for a long night of damage control. _

_At seven Kazuaki shows up with pizza, several bottles of rather expensive looking sake and an explanation of, "Nageki's going to feel even worse when he learns you dropped everything for him, __**again**__, and, honestly, you two are the only company I'd wanted tonight anyway so..." _

_Given that his friend has likely had to gear himself up for even this it'd be cruel to simply turn him away and, sighing, this time out loud, he remarks,_

_"Come on in, though don't expect him to be any sort of welcoming right now."_

_By eight the two of them are alone in the front room, Nageki having taken himself to bed twenty minutes previous a shaky smile and a, "thank you," to them both._

_Kazuaki had chatted for a little while after, tongue loosened the sake and the sense of safety he knew the other felt in his company, before falling a clearly contemplative silence._

_The part of him twisted to gambler by the drink debates asking the shape of those thoughts and yet still, for the moment, that voice is drowned the part of him that shall always, always, be selfless caregiver._

_The part that understands there are scars still unknown to him carved into Kazuaki's soul, scars that he might, unwittingly, open, if he pushed at the wrong moment._

_It's just shy of midnight when the other finally breaks the silence, face drawn still an odd sort of distance as he utters a sharp whisper,_

_"I love you, Hitori." _

_It is midnight precisely when he leans forward to respond, "I love too, Nanaki," sealing the words a tender kiss before adding, "happy new year."_


End file.
